


Sepal

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Dominance, Food Kink, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bombur dirties Ori and cleans him up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sepal

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Bombur likes to pour honey everywhere on his lover and lick it off. We need more Bombur smut (or anything really). +I am partial to Dis, any of the Ri brothers, or Bofur, but any would be fine! +Bonus if Bombur tops if the partner is a male” prompt on [the Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/9471.html?thread=20873983#t20873983).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Bombur comes back from the kitchens to find Ori waiting in his bedroom, sitting on the middle of the stone floor like bid. Ori’s clothes are all piled on the desk, and he’s as naked as the day he came into the world, except that he holds his thighs together and clutches his chest with his hands, shyly covering his tits. Bombur can still see enough to knows his wife will be _delighted_ when she arrives in two weeks: Ori’s grown up on this quest, but he’s still as small and cute as he ever was. He looks up at Bombur, sheepish but excited, with his brows drawn together and his bottom lip chewed between his teeth. Bombur’s seldom come home to such a meal. 

Ori will still need more training though, more use, if he’s going to be as good to Bombur’s wife. They’re both large, spirited dwarves, and they don’t do anything subtly. Ori glances at the ceramic pot in Bombur’s hands, but he doesn’t ask what it is. Bombur’s the one to explain, “We’re going to see how ticklish you are.” Ori nods, even though his eyes say clearly that he doesn’t understand. 

A few steps and Bombur’s right in front of him, the door securely locked. Ori cranes his neck to look up, and Bombur takes a minute just to appreciate the view: all of Ori is young and ripe, and he’s still nicely plump but a tiny thing compared to Bombur. It’s a pleasant contrast, especially with how subservient he sits before his elder. Between his round stomach and his clamped thighs, his crotch is mostly hidden, only a few ruddy hairs peaking out, but Bombur has a nice view of his pudgy breasts squished beneath his palms. It’s nothing compared to Bombur’s wife, of course, who has a chest bigger than her head, but Bombur still likes a bit of protrusion to his men, and Ori doesn’t disappoint. 

Bombur orders gently, “Close your eyes and keep them shut, Ori.” Ori instantly obeys. His lashes flutter against his cheeks, and he tilts his face up expectantly, even though he doesn’t know what’s coming. 

Bombur takes the lid off the pot and tosses it towards the bed, then lifts the pot with both hands and overturns it above Ori’s head. The honey rushes out, first dropping down the middle, then oozing down the sides. Ori squeaks in surprise but quickly shuts his mouth and keeps his eyes closed. It sloshes all down his head from all sides, drenching his hair and soaking his shoulders. He ducks his head and cringes, hunching up, but he doesn’t move away. The golden liquid highlights his growing blush. Once it’s hit his skin, the honey dribbles slower, but it still makes its way slowly down his chest and back and in rivulets down his arms. 

Bombur shakes the pot and taps the bottom until everything’s out, and Ori’s sitting there like a painted statue, shimmering in the evening light through the stone-cut windows. Only when he starts struggling for air, too much over his nose and mouth, does Bombur sit down in front of him, setting the pot aside. He’ll need to do some major cleaning later, but it’ll be worth it. 

He wipes off Ori’s face with a rag from his pocket that he knew he’d need, just enough that Ori can breathe alright and open his eyes, even though his skin’s still sticky and shimmering. He whimpers adorably but doesn’t complain. He never does. He likes new things, but scrolls and books can never prepare him for the real thing, and Bombur’s got more life experience than he likely ever will. When Bombur’s done, he licks up the side of Ori’s face with his broad tongue, making Ori whine and arch into him. Another lick across his brow, and Ori lets out a slew of keening noises and tries to lean in for a kiss that Bombur dodges. He murmurs, “Hush,” and Ori pouts but listens. 

The honey stays in globs, clinging to and oozing out of Ori’s hair and beard, but Bombur only takes care of it peripherally before moving on—he has an entire body to get to. He laps a long line down Ori’s freckled neck and takes hold of Ori’s wrists, prying them away. Some of the honey’s already dripped over Ori’s chest, but Bombur helps spread more, smearing some down from his shoulders to completely cover his tits, taking liberties along the way to squeeze and knead the tender flesh, Ori gasping with each touch. He has small, rosy nipples that pebble easily in Bombur’s thick fingers and look particularly juicy when they’re drenched. Bombur leaves his own clothes on, knowing he’ll have to give them a very thorough wash later, and just sits back to admire Ori’s naked skin, until Ori’s laboured breath is making his breasts jiggle so much that Bombur can’t resist. He licks one line straight across them, then diverts down the left one, while Ori cries out and covers his mouth with one hand. 

Bombur lets him only because Ori’s never been particularly good at stifling noises—they still find their way out, more ragged and desperate each time. Bombur tongues one nipple until Ori begs, “ _Bombur_.” Then Bombur obliges and sucks it into his mouth, suckling hard enough that if there were any milk in there, it’d be gushing out in a flood. 

Instead, Bombur just enjoys the taste, the sensation, and the way Ori squirms so prettily and pleads under his breath. The honey’s a pleasant, saccharine taste that Bombur can never get enough of, but Ori’s skin is just as alluring underneath it. When every last remnant of honey’s gone, Bombur licks his way over to the other nipple and gives it the same treatment. Ori’s clearly struggling not to thread his fingers in Bombur’s hair, because he knows he’s filthy and he’s a good boy. He holds his hands up instead, his elbows squishing his breasts together, making them even more pronounced for Bombur to play with. He sucks both dry and licks them clean, while Ori turns bright pink and _begs_.

A line of butterfly kisses down his stomach, and Bombur forces Ori’s legs apart, making sure to spread the honey all over his milky thighs. Bombur doesn’t make any effort to touch Ori’s stout cock, but it gets splattered all the same. It curves and bobs straight up, already hard—the joy of youth. And Ori’s expressed before that he likes being _used._ He’s a wonderful pet, and a better meal. 

When Bombur’s finished with Ori’s stomach and painted everything below, he shoves Ori down, and Ori drops right to the floor. Bombur had it thoroughly cleaned this morning but will have to do it again tomorrow. Ori lies on his back, legs spread around Bombur, cock twitching in anticipation. Bombur starts on Ori’s left thigh, pressing his tongue beneath Ori’s knee and running straight up. The sickly sweet scent of the honey half masks Ori’s musk, but Bombur can still smell the _sex_. When he drags his tongue along the seam of leg and body, Ori moans and canters up, so that Bombur has to hold him down. Ori gasps, “Sorry,” and Bombur just chuckles. 

He licks at Ori’s leg until he’s taken everything he can, then swipes across Ori’s stomach to the other one, nipping lightly down Ori’s right thigh. He thoroughly cleans the honey off, though the red-brown hairs stay slicked down with spit. Only when everything’s gone from Ori’s legs does Bombur stray back to his middle, this time ducking down to lick at his balls. Ori yelps instantly, and Bombur presses his tongue firm under them—they’re small, tight and round, nothing like his own heavy, hanging sac. No honey’s made it here, but Bombur gives them a solid suck anyway before lapping up Ori’s shaft. Ori strains against Bombur’s grip to thrust his hips up, but he’s weak compared to Bombur and doesn’t get far. Bombur takes his time, never quite taking Ori into his mouth but licking over the entire surface. When he’s finished, Ori moans, “Please, Bombur, _please._ ”

Bombur only grins and sits up enough to take hold of Ori’s hips. He flips Ori right over, pleased at how easy it is to lift him—he’s probably the lightest of their company, now that Bilbo’s gone. Bombur deposits him right back on the floor, on his stomach, and Ori tries to hump the stone until Bombur grabs his hips again. Then Bombur leans over Ori’s back to lap at his shoulders and lick down his spine, while Ori squirms and coos. Bombur does this quicker, because he’s growing too hard to wait. He makes his way right down to Ori’s round ass and spreads the honey in, kneading the fat globes with his hands. Ori braces himself and cries out, cheek turned against the floor. His rump might be Bombur’s favourite part of him. It’s nice and plump and warm and jiggles so easily in his fingers, dimpled here and there and pink from the exertion. Bombur covers it in as much honey as he can gather, then dips down to spread his mouth wide across one cheek and suck it all up. Ori groans, nearly going limp.

These are the parts Bombur savours. He alternates between licking and sucking and taking big bites, though he doesn’t dig his teeth in—Ori’s too delicate. He just grazes and laps. He covers everywhere twice, long after the honey’s gone, and savours the taste that remains, dusted in sugar. Finally, he shoves his tongue into the top of Ori’s crack and drags it down, Ori’s trembling making his ass cheeks bounce around it. Bombur runs up and down it several times, until he takes two big fistfuls and pries Ori open. Then he spits a few times in the middle, even though Ori’s already soaking wet, just to watch more dribble down to his hole. 

Pink and furrowed, Ori’s tight hole glistens up at him, twitching open here and there enough to let a few drops suck inside. Bombur brushes his thumb over the brim to tempt it wider, and Ori whimpers, puckered rim fluttering. Bombur taps it a few times, then dives in to shove his tongue against it, and Ori cries out again, his ass thrusting back into Bombur’s face. Bombur buries in, shoving Ori hard against the floor. He curls his tongue and stabs at Ori’s hole over and over, until he can press inside, even vast as his tongue is. His cock’s far bigger. He starts with just the tip of his tongue but keeps moving in and out until he can fit all the way, unfurling to lick at Ori’s walls. The taste of honey now seems permanent on his tongue, though it isn’t much inside here, and is probably better for it—he doesn’t need anything sticky. He uses his spit instead, coating Ori right up. 

He fucks Ori on his tongue until he can shove his pinky inside around it, using both to spread Ori open, and Ori whines and begs a slew of nonsense words. Bombur works his way to a second finger, then switches for his middle and index one, spreading Ori open, his tongue still inside. By the time he pulls out, Ori’s leaking a steady stream of saliva down to his balls, squished cutely against the stone. 

Bombur only sits up enough to reach a hand down to his trousers. He doesn’t bother taking anything else off, just opens himself and pulls out his cock, pulsing hot in his hand. He’s hugely thick, even for a dwarf, but he’s always careful to open Ori enough, and Ori’s very pliable when he’s aroused. He looks over his shoulder with a bright red face and dilated pupils, his hair a mess and his body shimmering. Bombur presses the veiled head of his cock to Ori’s gaping hole, then purrs fondly, “Say when, lad.”

“When!” Ori moans immediately, before Bombur’s even finished his sentence. Bombur obliges, stabbing suddenly forward, just enough to pop inside and feel Ori’s velvet walls part for his girth. Ori shoves his ass back at the same time, taking more than he should, and it makes him _scream_ , body arching. Bombur falls right atop it, crushing Ori deliberately down with his weight. Ori makes a strangled noise of sheer ecstasy, and for a split second, Bombur’s worried Ori will come already.

Somehow, he lasts, and Bombur works his way fully inside, eased by spit and urged on by Ori’s hungry channel. It sucks at him, the pressure exquisite, the heat stifling. He gives Ori barely a minute to adjust, then pulls half out to slam back inside, and he proceeds to fuck Ori hard and fast, pounding him right into the floor. Bombur holds himself up on hands and knees only as much as he has to to let Ori breathe, but he keeps his presence felt, and Ori writhes under it with a constant stream of moans from his lips. 

Ori’s tight and good, _wondrously good_ , and he makes it better with his noises and the way he scrambles at the floor. His plump rear is a nice cushion for Bombur’s crotch, though Bombur’s sure he’s too brutal and going to leave Ori red, as he so often does. His clothes stick to Ori’s skin, dragging Ori up with him, but Ori doesn’t at all seem to mind. It’s clear that he’s trying to rub himself off on the floor without either of them touching him, and Bombur doesn’t help, because every time he does, Ori comes abruptly. So he just nuzzles into the back of Ori’s head, occasionally licking at the leftover honey on Ori’s neck and trying not to get too much hair in his mouth. Ori squeals like a pig and throws himself right into it. 

Ori still comes too soon, with a sudden shriek and the tensing of his body—Bombur can feel it. He quickly shoves one arm under Ori’s body, clawing at Ori’s chest and fucking Ori all the harder, milking it out and taking what he can while Ori’s still good for it. Ori takes several thrusts to fall and lie still, limp beneath Bombur’s belly, with his face turned to the side and breathing hard. Bombur keeps pounding into his pliant body until it’s all too much, and Bombur follows with a _roar_. He fills Ori up with a rush of hot seed, Ori crooning happily right through it. 

Even when he’s completely spent, Bombur stays inside for a bit, just savouring the feel but no longer hammering into Ori. Eventually, he pulls out, dragging spit and seed with him. Then he rolls to the side. He lies on his back, feeling quite satisfied. Ori spoons up to him, smiling sheepishly and dizzily.

When they’ve both come down enough to breathe, Ori starts to tentatively touch his hair, and he finally concludes, “It’s still in there.”

“I’ll wash it out,” Bombur promises, rolling over to give Ori’s cheek a peck. It makes Ori light up like he’s been promised the world, even though aftercare and an afterglow is standard with Bombur. 

Another few minutes, and Bombur hoists himself up. He glances about his room but finally decides he’ll deal with Ori before his own messy clothes, so he turns to scoop Ori up in his arms. Ori squeaks and clings to him, and Bombur gets up to his feet, pausing one more moment to catch his breath.

Then he carries Ori off for a bath, while Ori threads his little fingers in Bombur’s braid and kisses Bombur’s nose.


End file.
